


Blood and Body

by Experi



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Aphrodisiacs, Blood Kink, M/M, Porn, Predator/Prey, Succubi & Incubi, Trans Male Character, demonfucking, i wrote most of this in a horny fugue state i s2g, lance continues to be hot enough to ruin peoples lives but now hes decided to weaponize it, my friend sent me a tweet about demons seducing priests and i just blanked out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23090698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Experi/pseuds/Experi
Summary: When life gives you lemons (turns you into an incubus in the afterlife because you boned the kings wife and this is your punishment), you make lemonade (fuck the church boy sent to purify you).Alternatively, when life gives you the task of exorcising a demon you’re completely unprepared and untrained for because it's not actually your job, you wing it and then end up making a deal to feed the demon so he doesn’t harangue anyone else because you were trapped in a moment of bisexual impulse and couldn’t think of anything else to do.
Relationships: Lancelot of the Lake | Berserker/Matou Kariya
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	Blood and Body

**Author's Note:**

> just some random notes because i accidentally worldbuilt outside of the porn part and i didnt wanna toss it lol
> 
> \- kariya’s still scarred from zouken, but instead of being from magic worms, it’s various scars from burns to magic to etc etc along the left half of his body. sakura hasnt been taken to the matou house….. (yet?). 
> 
> \- the timeline is like… “ambiguously late medieval europe” with a state religion of “ambiguously Christian with a healthy heaping of canon mages and factual mysticism”, a combination best known as “eh, just don’t think too hard about it”. They were going to be based on Orthodoxy bc i think the Orthodox aesthetique is sexier than the Catholic one but if I tried that, images of every monk I’ve ever met and who’s done me a solid passed through my mind and I couldn’t do that to the poor monks. Catholics, on the other hand? It’s always free range season on Catholics.
> 
> \- sorry there is like SO MUCH bullshit before the actual porn part… i just feel obligated to set scenes somehow when i AU. whoops. maybe it gives a bit of a better feel….ill use that as my excuse. anyways just skip 4k words down to get to demonfucking.
> 
> \- this is the first time i’ve posted any porn with trans headcanons, even tho i’ve wanted to before, but it makes me nervous to go outside fandom norms..? well, i’ll do what i want in the end.

Kariya’s the only one present in the church, which doesn’t bode well when someone barges through the door. Usually there’s Kirei, and if not him, then Father Kotomine, but both of them are out doing something-or-other that Kariya has no need to be given the details of. All he’s supposed to do is keep things maintained and clean, help on Sundays, recite off verses when the townspeople ask relevant questions, and be the local pity case; none of which are things that change when the Kotomines are gone. (The latter duty is, he assumes, mostly why he’s kept around, but whatever.)

It’s usually nothing of major concern when he’s the only one in the building. The Kotomines have left plenty times before, and Kirei himself is only around seemingly at random. If someone needs something and only Kariya’s there, than Kariya deals with it, and someone’s always back in time to take care of Sunday sermons. There’s generally nothing so major as to cause a problem.

Generally.

Kariya’s trained in how to manage odd things. He’s seen Kirei or the Father deal with them, spirits that pop up or enchantments that need to be cast or dispelled. Kariya’s picked up a few skills from them. He has not, unfortunately, picked up enough to confidently deal with the problem when a man pulls in his severely flustered girlfriend into the nave Kariya was simply trying to sweep in peace and informs Kariya that his girlfriend has given host to an incubus and that he demands the church do something to purify her.

Great!

After some private questioning, Kariya learns to his very deep disappointment that this is not a lie burst out to cover up infidelity. She is at least  _ convinced _ that there is a demon in her house. According to her, he just… showed up a few days ago, was pretty in her direction, and things went downhill from there. So that means it’s something he has to deal with. Apparently. As the only present member of the clergy. Apparently. Despite not actually being an ordained anything.  


Unfortunately, Kariya’s not an exorcist. But he knows a little about binding magic, has a little bit of a penchant for it. He can  _ probably _ bind a demon to something sufficiently enough to keep it contained, then get whichever Kotomine comes back first to deal with banishing it completely. 

Yeah. That’ll be fine. They can do that.  


Kariya drags his hand down his face in an attempt to prepare himself to be exhausted and agrees to follow the couple back to the guy’s house with materials for a ritual in tow. He mumbles something or other to them about needing to gather materials and prepare, which is mostly an excuse to separate himself from their gaze and think his way through this.  


Kariya’s not entirely sure what would be needed, actually, that would differentiate binding a demon from binding something like abstract concepts or people. Worst comes to worst, it won’t work and if he gets eaten he won’t be missed. It’s fine. Kariya resolves himself to that fate, then tells the couple to wait in the entry alcove while he hauls himself up the rickety wooden stairs near the entryway up to the second floor.

Second floor is storage and Father Kotomine’s living quarters and study. Kariya hates the stairs, mostly because they’re a huge pain to climb if he’s having an even remotely bad day. Today it’s doubly annoying because people are  _ watching _ him climb the stupid staircase, and he has to limp at double speed to minimize the amount of time people see him struggle.

At least he’s out of view once he gets halfway up and it turns. The door’s locked to visitors who aren’t the Kotomines, but Kariya’s got all the keys and a reasonable amount of confidence that neither of them would care particularly. The general storage room gets checked first, since it contains the largest amount of pointless nonsense. Things accumulated through years of owning a gathering place where stuff gets lost or things are needed once but never again.

Kariya isn’t actually certain what he’s looking for while he digs through the contents of a bookshelf whose shelves are all completely full of things that aren’t books. Not anything particularly important, but something blessed or with insignia might help. Mostly, something he can carry around without difficulty. After a couple minutes, he settles for grabbing what looks like a small iron ring and calling it good enough. It has nothing distinctive and he knows absolutely nothing of its original owner or purpose, but he remembers hearing tales about Fair Folk disliking processed metals and if the fae hate it, maybe demons will, too? Shit, he really needs to study more before he agrees to nonsense like this.

Oh, well. He can’t exactly go down and tell the couple ‘sorry, changed my mind, come back later’. Kariya grabs a stick of chalk from the shelf, shoves it in his pants pocket alongside the ring, and slouches back down the stairs to reunite with the rest of his newly formed adventuring party.

He doesn’t know where they live, barely even knows either of their names until the guy refers to his girlfriend as Yume. (A strange feeling, to know details about someone’s sex life before you figure out their name.) So Kariya just gestures for them to lead the way and follows along after, the weight of scant materials in his pocket not balancing out at all with the weight of vague foreboding in his head. Yume trails alongside Kariya, stuck in a seemingly perpetual state of embarrassed quiet, which Kariya very much empathizes with. The walk isn’t horribly long. Kariya’s thankful for that, as it minimizes the amount of time he spends avoiding the half-formed conversational attempts from Yume’s boyfriend. It’s not his fault that Kariya’s not exactly used to the whole customer service thing and is far too busy running through five different trains of thought to pay attention.

Yume tugs lightly at his sleeve once they’re close to the house and, in a tiny voice Kariya nearly misses, asks “you’re not disappointed in me, are you?”

Kariya blinks at her, then shakes his head. “Nah.” He’s not  _ personally _ , anyways, who knows what an actual member of the clergy would say. But that seems enough to put her a little more at ease.

She averts her eyes, still flustered. Her hand hasn’t left Kariya’s upper arm, and he finds himself unfortunately distracted by the novelty of being touched. Huh. “I really didn’t mean to do anything with him, he just showed up a few days ago and was talking about being hungry, and… Anyways, I only once -- oh, never mind, this isn’t exactly -- erm, sorry, mister.”

She lets go of him immediately and clasps her hands in front of her instead. Kariya mourns the loss of contact just a little, but that’s nothing he can do anything about. She doesn’t pipe up any further until Kariya’s let into her partner’s house.

He’s led politely to Yume’s room, which is only vaguely separated from the central area. It’s kept apart by curtains that cordon it off and give some semblance of privacy, but that’s it. At least there’s something he can close behind himself and feel a little less watched, on the off chance he fucks up. Kariya only gives himself the opportunity to look around once he’s blocked the room off from the other two waiting in the main room. It’s a rather normal room, plain. A bed with an absolute pile of blankets atop it, a night table, some articles of clothing left on the floor to be dealt with later, what looks like some sewing projects left in a pile. Superficially, there’s nothing out of place from what Kariya would assume an average young woman’s quarters would look like.

But something in the room is odd. Kariya’s not sure  _ how _ it’s odd, just that it  _ is _ . Maybe it’s a little too dark, even considering the drawn curtains. Maybe it’s the faint smell of wood-smoke and metal that wouldn’t be abnormal anywhere else except something tugs at Kariya that it’s not supposed to be here. Nothing shows up, at least, but he feels like something is still here. Maybe waiting. Maybe not, and it’s just his own nerves on edge! Maybe that, and absolutely nothing will happen. Sure. 

Kariya sets his expression into a determined frown and enters the room, muttering something under his breath that alternates between a banishing chant and a prayer. Cover his bases. He shoves a rug out of the way in the center of the room so he can crouch down and start drawing a basic circle. No need for anything too complicated, a few sigils and loops should be fine. It’s quick work, but towards the end he feels distinctly like something is watching him. Kariya swallows thickly.

That probably isn’t good. It makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle. Kariya finishes his scrawling hastily before tossing the ring in the center of the circle and stepping back. Shoulder squared, he draws in a breath. “Fill. Fill.”

The light in the room dims at the same time as the metal inside the circle begins to glow dimply. A trail of black smog coalesces suddenly about the edges of the circle. Kariya fixes his attention somewhere vaguely in middle distance, ignoring it, and continues the incantation. “Fill.”

“Aaaah. Wait—“ the voice is someone else’s, grating and strangely groggy sounding, like it had just woken up. Kariya continues to resolutely ignore it, even as the black smoke roils and with an impression of great reluctance, begins to slink inside the chalk loops.

Kariya attempts to keep his voice flat, but he can’t help some smug, stubborn edge into it, distantly proud of himself and his ‘useless, lackluster magical talent’ actually accomplishing something. “Close once filled, seal intact.”

“You are not— stop it!” Protests don’t do much to stop the flow of the spell, even when it’s trying to speak over Kariya and the voice descends quickly into a nigh-incoherent garbled mess. “Just  _ ask _ ! Rrgh.”

“Bound to blood and faith. I tie the thread.” Kariya continues the incantation resolutely. He’s not going to ask anything, nor is he going to stop. The ritual is quick, at least. Only a few more lines of the spell before the light returns to normal and the fog disappears atop the metal.

Kariya gives it a few seconds before dropping his straight-backed professional posture into a more comfortable slouch and stepping over to scoop the ring up into his hands. Inspecting it doesn’t reveal anything very different about it now. Maybe a little dark flicker, but that might just be his head. Nothing moves, and the feeling of a presence is gone, so it should be fine. Kariya drops his hand back down to his side. Something feels a little too casual about tossing the ring back into his pants pocket. Maybe it’s just biding its time or something, better to have a hold on the vessel.

He re-emerges from the room with a wave of greeting. “I think it’s fine now. Let me know if anything, uh, comes up. And visit Father Kotomine once he comes back for a blessing.” Or something. Demon sex probably necessitates some kind of blessing, which Kariya knows he absolutely isn’t qualified to give and also doesn’t want to think about for any longer than necessary. How would… nope, never mind, not thinking about it! 

Yume flushes and averts her eyes while giving him a vague thank you, while her boyfriend is a bit more enthusiastic. Kariya mostly wants to escape; he’s not exactly good at dealing with people and empathizes more with the girl desperately wishing that none of the obvious details of this situation required voicing. He extracts himself awkwardly from the situation, some vague platitudes about religion and reminders that he’s not a  _ proper _ priest, nor will he ever be, please just let him go--.

As soon as he manages to shut the door behind him, he slumps against it with a sigh. That wasn’t as much of a mess as he thought it would be. Must have been a pretty weak demon. At least binding doesn’t take as much out of him as most rituals. He should still have enough energy to finish the work for the day. 

Good, time to do that. Kariya hoists himself back up and sets off. The ring stays a present weight in his hand the entire time, a reminder both that he currently owns something dangerous and that he’s managed to accomplish something magical on his own, one of the many things he was expected to never be capable of. Eat worms, Zouken. He stares at the ring again as soon as he’s got the doors of the church shut behind him.

Still the same as it was. Not clearly cursed or weird or anything. Well and truly bound tight. Kariya allows himself a little victorious grin before he closes his fingers over it and walks down the nave’s aisle, towards the apse. There’s a little better storage places there, and Kariya’s absolutely not going to leave this ring without a locked container.

“Are you done walking?” A voice rumbles out from seemingly nowhere, impossible to tell if it’s verbal or merely in Kariya’s head.

Kariya jerks to standing straight in alarm, glancing to either side and seeing no one before he looks down at the heavy ring clenched in his hand. “...You?” There’s no one else it could be. “If it can talk, that’s probably not great,” he mutters to himself. That’s how demons are supposed to work, with the quick wit and convincing nonsense. That’s what he’s told. Kariya frowns. If he can’t even do the simple task of binding a magical entity, what’s he worth here? “Fine,” he grumbles, “I’ll just retie the bonding.”

“Ah! Wait! Let me talk,” comes the immediate protest as the ring starts to shake in his hand. He’d only let Kariya bind him in the hopes that doing so would get this all over with quicker, with minimal casualties, he doesn’t sit in tiny spaces for  _ fun _ .

“No!” Kariya knows better! He knows damn well that any magical entity is tricky, and demons are especially bad. He might not be trained by the Church, but that’s  _ basic _ education. He’s not going to talk out  _ anything _ , he’s going to drop this ring into the basin, put another few layers of binding on it, and let it  _ sit _ . In  _ silence _ . Suffer.

Or he would, he’d very much like to, but the ring suddenly flares into a bright spark of heat in his hand. Unfortunately not the scarred hand, where the pain would be dulled, so it’s sharp and sudden and makes him yelp, instinctively tossing the now-flaring ring.

He curses himself as soon as it leaves his hand and the pain disappears. Kariya’s already trying to follow after it, but he’s never been gifted with speedy movement. A thin arc of smoke follows along the ring’s path. Kariya hears it clatter to a stop.

Not even a full second later, a shadow billows upward from it. Kariya grits his teeth.  _ Shit _ . This isn’t enough to stop him from limping further towards it.

The shadow balloons, a hazy black smog that within a second or two has large wings bursting forth from it. They’re huge, maybe five meters from one’s base to its tip. They stretch up towards the ceiling, solid black and most strongly resembling bats’ wings. The tips shake a bit, like they’re stretching, like someone putting their arms up above their head and leaning back after working too long.

Kariya stops in his tracks. This could be… bad.

The form in the fog stands up once he feels the wings are satisfactorily stretched, pulling up to his full height with a grunt. Even though he wasn’t stuck for long and remained in there mostly for politeness’ sake, it’s still horribly cramped to be contained inside a tiny little piece of metal. The black fog condenses down into the shape of what is  _ mostly _ human, and Kariya watches wide-eyed from a few paces away. 

This is not anything he prepared for when he was planning how his day, or even his time spent working for the Church, would go. The demon pushes its hair back and turns to look at the mage who dared try to imprison it with red eyes the glow like embers, visible even from the distance away Kariya stands. The demon blinks. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t try to seal me again,” it says in a forcibly level voice. This conversation would, after all, be  _ much _ easier if he didn’t get irritated. He can’t help but let an edge of it into his voice, but -- it’s quick to get swallowed down. “I wasn’t doing anything criminal.”

The fact that he speaks just like any other human (well, mostly. His voice has something of a growled edge to it) breaks Kariya out of his stunned silence. “You’re a demon, though. You feed off of people’s lives.  _ That’s _ criminal, we can’t let you run amok in the town.”

There’s an annoyed huff, and the demon hops neatly over the pew he’s standing behind to walk over to stand within easy arguing distance of Kariya, his hands on his hips but otherwise appearing rather relaxed. “I feed off of people’s sexuality, not their lives. It doesn’t kill people.” This is a tired argument, but he also prefers not to kill onlookers and call it a day, mostly because cleaning that up is a hassle and tends to spark the trouble of having him hunted down. Ergo, tired argument it is.

Kariya had assumed that dealing with an incubus meant he would be arguing with some large naked person smelling of fire and looking intimidating. Not to say that this demon  _ doesn’t _ look intimidating, simply in a different way that Kariya expected. He’s tall, towering over Kariya, and surprisingly modestly dressed. A loose navy tunic with holes or some cut Kariya can’t quite see that allows his wings to stretch free from the back, and simple pants. No shoes, oddly. He’s definitely not  _ naked _ , at least, which Kariya counts as a plus towards his ability to talk his way through this, but is still extremely pretty, which might outweigh the plus.

He’s on the thin side of muscular, with a sharp, angular face. His hair frames it on either side, and pointed ears poke out from behind the loose strands of his side bangs. Small horns curve up from his forehead, only a little taller than the width of Kariya’s palm, coloured a dark black. He has a long tail, black, looking somewhat like it starts off decently thick and tapers down, but Kariya isn’t about to lean over and ogle his ass to find out. Even if (now that the thought has occurred to him) he kind of wants to. The tail goes for a while, longer than the demon’s legs, thinning as it goes to about the diameter of a pencil, tipped at the end by a backwards-flicking point. It curls absently in the air and flicks about the tip in a way that reads as vaguely annoyed.

“Well,” Kariya starts belatedly, after realizing that he’s been staring. “I still can’t let a demon loose around town, regardless of what you eat. You’re a demon, and I work for the Church.” Even if he doesn’t work with much particular faith, it’s the principle of the thing.

The demon scowls, the raise of lip revealing pointed canines. Kariya can’t help but flick his eyes to them, have a split second thought of those teeth on his neck, pressing into skin -- ah, nope, none of that. He jerks his attention back to the demon. He had a job here. Dispel the incubus,  _ not _ contemplate his teeth. Or his hands. Or the really nice curve of his jaw. Or-- oh, damn it. Kariya swallows, reminding himself of this fact, and belatedly realizes that the other has been talking this entire time. “--see why  _ I _ don’t deserve to eat, when it was perfectly consensual.”

What was going on again? Ah. Yeah. “Conse--  _ No _ , you still can’t go around seducing whoever you like, much less women with partners already. Look, you aren’t going to win this, just let me take care of it.”

“She was married? She didn’t say.” This doesn’t seem to affect him much. He completely ignores the rest of Kariya’s sentence as he realizes something and leans down into Kariya’s space with something distinctly ominous in his expression that cuts Kariya off immediately. “If it’s only a problem when it’s someone you don’t approve of, then this is fine. Surely you holy folk have to have pity for all the creatures on the earth. I’m a creature of the land who has to eat like any other. It’s been a few days since I got to eat from her, so: give me some alms.”

Kariya realizes what it is in the bright-red gaze that’s setting him on edge: hunger, open and unashamed hunger. He’s caught in it for a second, unsure if this too is some supernatural power or if it’s the sheer novelty of the situation that makes him feel as if he’s been abruptly dunked underwater. It doesn’t help that most times people fix their attention on him it’s pitying, or it’s Kirei smiling dangerously at something only he thinks of while looking at the scars on Kariya’s face.  _ That _ he can deal with, and generally reacts to with irritated exasperation.  _ This _ he has no protocols for.

Unable to look away, he responds in a voice much less certain than he’d like. “I don’t have anything for you.” He’s not so stupid that he doesn’t realize what’s being asked and that his excuse is a patent lie, but still.

“You want me to stay out of this town’s business, don’t you? I don’t mind doing that, if I’m fed. I’m Lancelot: I swear on my True Name that you’ll be fine.” Lancelot gives him an odd smile, not insincere but a little too devious.

Kariya frowns at him, even as the prolonged attention is making him both self-conscious and defensive, a little too easily plied. He knows the adage that one can’t bargain with demons. He also knows that for anything supernatural, the use of a proper name has much more power than with humans, and knowing his name means Kariya can bind him much more easily, but…

But something in the air makes him feel like he’s not thinking straight, and something that isn’t based in his brain makes him think he might want a bit more of this attention. “Swear that you won’t bother or prey on the other people in the town.” His voice sounds distant, somehow, but even now his brain is working double-time to rationalize the mess he’s walking into. If he can’t bind the incubus, then he’ll have to solve the problem and keep it tamed until Father Kotomine comes back, so this is -- it’s protecting the townspeople. Yeah. It’s keeping them safe from demons, and doing his job. A sacrifice for the sake of… something. “And that you won’t kill or damn me,” he tacks on belatedly, self-preservation always the last thing to come to mind.  


Lancelot holds out his hand, the eager hunger in his expression dimming to something more serious. He nods politely, bows with his other hand to his chest -- almost as if he was once something noble. “I swear.” (Internally, something thought along the lines of clergymen being so  _ paranoid _ . Shockingly easy to coerce, but so paranoid.) It’s an easy oath to make. He’s not exactly capable of damning someone, that’s not in the slightest his jurisdiction, and killing a meal ticket is idiocy.

Kariya takes the invitation, sighs as his last scrap of dignity manages to be disappointed at him, and places his hand in Lancelot’s. He’ll shake on it or whatever it is that seals this weird doubtlessly-terrible deal of his. Sure. Kariya manages to think that’s the last of it and he can direct Lancelot to his room, deal with him tonight (the euphemism alone makes him realize just a little of  _ what _ he just agreed to with a distinct sinking feeling), and leave himself the next couple of hours to finish his work and contemplate how absolutely screwed he is (metaphysically. Not literally. Or, well--  _ fuck _ ).

He gets to think that for about half of a second. Lancelot’s hand tightens around his and yanks Kariya forward, his other arm going around Kariya’s waist to lift him when Lancelot straightens up.

“Alright,” he announces with an air of pleased finality. His arm squeezes a little tighter and Kariya wriggles ineffectually in his grasp.

“Here?! No, absolutely not, that’s not happening--”

Lancelot disregards the complaints. "I told you, I want to eat." Now that it's been offered (or convinced), he has no intention of delaying a meal. The agreement's made, so why wait? The real question is where he's going to go; he's not used to the interior layout of churches.

Ah, hm.... “This’ll do fine.” He drops Kariya onto a pew, climbing over him before Kariya’s even finished his syllable of complaint. 

Kariya attempts to say something else until he focuses his gaze in front of him. Lancelot’s eyes are glowing brighter, something deeply predatory in his stare, and colour is starting to rise on his cheeks. Behind him, Kariya can see Lancelot’s tail swishing back and forth like he’s an interested cat. Words die on Kariya’s lips and his throat is suddenly too dry to speak. He lets out a cracked ‘ _ oh’ _ instead.

Close enough.

Lancelot licks his lips, and Kariya distantly feels his cheeks flood with heat. Somewhere in this, he’s left his mouth opened, stunned, and he feels like he’s about to start panting. Lancelot grabs Kariya’s leg just under the knee and lifts, pushing it back just on the edge of becoming painful. His tail wraps around Kariya’s calf to hold the leg in place as he moves forward. It’s cramped, he has to keep one leg on the ground to keep stable, but Lancelot moves the knee on the pew forward enough to press against Kariya’s crotch as he leans down.

Kariya makes a helpless whining noise that’s quickly cut off by Lancelot’s lips meeting his. 

People don’t  _ kiss _ Kariya. Sure, Aoi gave him a kiss on the cheek once or twice, a long time ago, but that was the closest he got. People don’t actually kiss him. Whatever he thought it would be like, it’s not this, Lancelot pressing hot and heavy against him, biting his lower lip in between kisses as Kariya does his best to keep up without drowning in it. His original thought was that he should probably try to push Lancelot off of him, at least for the appearance of having dignity, but instead he’s found his hands clutching desperate fistfuls of Lancelot’s shirt as he ineffectually tries to haul him closer. Lancelot’s tongue slips over Kariya’s lips and Kariya allows it, the taste somehow heady and making his head buzz deliriously. 

He gives up trying to keep pace and simply lets the tidal wave wash over him, letting out intermittent cut off noises against Lancelot’s lips. He tries to shift his hips back from Lancelot’s thigh, but the awkward positioning of his raised leg makes it difficult to move in any manner.

Lancelot leans back. The vague tugs to his loose shirt do nothing to stop the movement, though he does glance down to give Kariya’s attempt a pitying smile. Kariya attempts to catch his breath, or let his brain catch up to his libido. Whichever one happens first. “I,” Kariya finally manages, vaguely marshaling his thoughts into order. “Should not. Be doing this. Here.”

Objectively correct. For multiple reasons. The pew is uncomfortable, barely big enough to fit Kariya lying down on it, not to mention the fact that this is supposed to be a  _ holy _ place. One which anyone could walk into at any time, because the doors don’t lock. But Lancelot’s thin smile that’s given in reply is enough to completely blank Kariya’s head again. The smell of long-since-burnt incense and the saints looking down from windows are right back to being simple features of the environment rather than anything he should be concerned about, the light and beauty of the church dimming to a dull disinterest compared to Lancelot kneeling over him, backlit from light streaming through a glass depiction of angels. 

“I told you. I’m hungry. Would you rather I go to someone else?”

“No,” Kariya answers far too quickly, word torn out of him before he can think better of it. Trying to cover, he scrambles for a reasonable validation: “I’m not letting you go prey on an innocent person.” He’d like to say the refusal is solely for that reason, but his protest was ignited by the immediate and unbidden image of Lancelot leaning over someone  _ else _ instead, flushing Kariya with an irritated and oddly jealous heat.

He gets the feeling that no matter what he might say, Lancelot can see right through him. Lancelot kisses Kariya again, brief, and leans back only enough so he can meet Kariya’s gaze with his own. His eyes are glowing bright, casting a visible red light, and his pupils have dilated from thin slits to something that might match the width of a human’s pupil. His wings have stretched up to balance him, eclipsing most of the soft light and anything Kariya might be able to see behind him (if Kariya had the ability to shift his awareness at all). “So, you’ll sacrifice yourself? How noble,” Lancelot comments, tone teasing in a low rumble. He cups Kariya’s jaw in his hand, smoothing over the skin with his thumb. “Tell me your name, then.”

“Kariya.” The answer’s given nearly unbidden, falls out immediately to chase the shifting of Lancelot’s thumb over his cheek. Too late to take that back. “Kariya Matou.”

Lancelot smiles at him. He actually looks  _ nice _ like this, like this could be anywhere else and Kariya could be the sort of person who pretty men would smile gently at. At least, ignoring the inhuman features for just a moment. “Thanks. Hm. Kariya.” Testing it. Easy enough to say. Alright then. He gives Kariya another kiss, gentle and quick, this time as a reward. That seems more like this guy’s speed, though it only lasts for a moment before the growl is back in Lancelot’s voice and his fangs scrape over Kariya’s lips, swallowing a muted whine. “You’ll cry out to me, Kariya. Only.” He’s decided he’s to have some fun with him -- it would be a real pity if he were expected to share.

Kariya can practically feel his heart in his throat, but he doesn’t have much time to swallow it back down before Lancelot tugs Kariya’s head to the side. His teeth sink into Kariya’s shoulder, unimpeded by the fabric of Kariya’s cassock. Kariya yelps. It does nothing to stop Lancelot. The taste of blood welling under his lips is welcome -- his taste for it has only gotten worse after he reincarnated. At least it serves a purpose.

The fabric in the way doesn’t exactly help, though. He moves back only to tear Kariya’s cassock open and shove the fabric aside so he can run his tongue over the blood oozing up towards the divot of Kariya’s collarbone. 

Kariya doesn’t push him away, but he goes give a strained “What the hell was that?”. Lancelot completely ignores him -- his mouth is rather preoccupied with blood; small wounds are quick to clot and he’d rather not lose out. He only gets a moment to ignore Kariya, though. Kariya grabs one of Lancelot’s horns and tugs upward, enough to annoy Lancelot into following the movement. “Yes?” Lancelot asks.

Kariya glares at him, though it’s not a very intimidating look when his face is flushed and he occasionally shifts a little to distract himself from the heat between his legs. “I thought you were an incubus, not a vampire.”

“Blood is a pathway for magic. It helps.”

Kariya frowns at him. Is  _ that _ why kissing Lancelot made his head buzz, some ‘effect’ of his magic? That tracks, actually. And if it gets worse now, that’s…. hm. He wants to ask for clarification, but is cut off with another kiss. This one is messy, harsh. Lancelot nips over Kariya's bottom lip and blood wells up there, too. A sharp inhale, surprised more than pained, but Lancelot takes advantage of it to slip his tongue past Kariya's lips. The taste of his own blood is surreal here -- Kariya's bitten open his lips before or licked a cut to keep it from making a bigger mess, but here it's electric, something that makes Lancelot's presence alcoholic. Not the taste of blood, but something else above it, magic and who-knows-what, that sends a jolt down Kariya's spine and makes his hips twitch reflexively. He doesn't notice when Lancelot's tail stops restraining his leg, but he does notice with a yelp of alarm when it slips under the hem of his boxers and curls between his legs.

The tail curves, sliding over his clit, and Kariya attempts to grab Lancelot’s forearm. "Wait, ah, hnn--" 

Lancelot doesn't wait. "Hm? Oh. That's useful." Already wet, too -- poor under-fondled clergy, so easy to rile up.

The tail presses against his folds, teasing, and Kariya has to let go of Lancelot to clap a hand over his mouth. Lancelot laughs at him, an odd rumbling sound. "Is that all it takes? Guys in your line of work don't get out much, I guess."

Kariya mumbles something back at him without moving his palm from his mouth. It could probably be interpreted as a 'shut up' or similar. Lancelot will obediently quiet himself, innocently watching Kariya react and playing his hands over Kariya's skin (Kariya leans into all of it, every touch something he'll chase after for the novelty and warmth of it). He teases Kariya with his tail until Kariya gives in, eyes closed and letting needy whimpers slip out from behind his hand. Kariya's hips shift ineffectually against the tail coiling around him as Lancelot trails his hands over the divot of Kariya's waist and beneath his pants. 

Even with trying to muffle himself, Kariya can't mute the noise he makes when Lancelot's thumb rolls over his clit and two fingers replace the curve of the tail inside him. Lancelot's movements are quick and practiced, spreading Kariya open and curling his fingers in spots that make Kariya bite his hand and whine at the tension building in his stomach. He tries without thinking to match Lancelot's pace, inelegantly rocking against Lancelot's fingers, muttering half-aloud half-mentally an incoherent prayer, begging for forgiveness and for Lancelot all at once, for more, for absolution, for heresy, to cum. "Lannnnnn," muttered out before he can stop himself, the rest of the name swallowed in a moan. Lancelot fingers curl inside him and Kariya’s back arches off the pew. His eyes shut, a wordless “ah, ah--” as he flutters over Lancelot’s palm. Lancelot murmurs something meaningless but with a reassuring tone as he coaxes Kariya through it, from hitched breaths back down. His orgasm settles over Lancelot in a warm buzz of magic, not exactly something he can taste but something that  _ does _ make him feel fed.

Ah, but one isn’t enough. That’s only suitable as an appetizer. Lancelot isn’t starving now (never really was, truthfully), but the promise of a further meal only makes him impatient. He does at least wait for Kariya to stop trying to push his legs together, lets him catch his breath before Lancelot gently pushes his legs wider. He leans a little to keep Kariya's leg over the back of the pew he's on, kept in place by the press of Lancelot's waist. 

Lancelot carefully slips his fingers out of Kariya, earning a soft whine in response. He laughs a little in an exhale. "You did a good job." Kariya somehow manages to flush even further at the comment, red leeching even over his shoulders. Lancelot's well aware of Kariya's gaze fixed on him, though he acts as if he doesn't at all as he raises his hand to mouth and absently licks his palm. He can feel Kariya's thigh twitch. 

Carefully, Kariya slips his hand from his mouth, just enough to mutter. "What about you?" He'd like to pretend his gaze doesn't flicker to Lancelot's crotch, but-- the brief smug look in the demon's gaze proves that Kariya isn't subtle. (Who's starving now?) Lancelot leans down. 

"Aren't you caring. I've picked up such a nice partner~."

"Shut up, you'd say that to anyone."

"Who knows." He doesn't actually like being rote, but it is one of the side effects of this body he's been given-- there's only so many platitudes to soften up humans he can make before it becomes stock script. Lancelot kisses the corner of Kariya's mouth, a handy distraction from what his hands are doing. "Don't worry," he murmurs against Kariya's skin. "I'm not done."

Neatly, he sits back up and before Kariya can move to react, Lancelot rips the seam of Kariya's pants apart at the crotch. His boxers share this fate as, in an almost unprecedented attempt at flexibility, Kariya attempts to kick Lancelot in the head. He misses and catches him in the wing instead, but good enough. "Asshole, I have to fix those myself!"

"Call it exchange for sticking me to a ring," Lancelot replies amiably. Kariya grumbles at him. Not like he can do anything about it now -- and feeling air against bare skin is only further flustering him. He wants to do something to regain his dignity, but Lancelot kisses him again to appease him and Kariya lets himself accept that instead. It's nice, in a weird way, even though he can tell Lancelot's only being gentle with teeth and tongue to placate him. It's enough. Kariya lays his hand wander, the one that's easiest to move in the limited space sliding over Lancelot's bicep to his back. He can feel the tone of muscle over Lancelot's arm, the heat of skin when Kariya's hand finds where Lancelot's shirt opens for his wings. There's actually a faint noise muttered from Lancelot when Kariya's fingers find where the wings join with his back. Maybe… something to keep in mind. Up from there, along the back of his neck, tracing the ridge of his spine and pushing fingers through his hair. His hair is soft, feels oddly like it's almost floating; an inhuman thing that Kariya finds hard to describe but doesn't stop him from curling his fingers firmly. That seems like it's a good thing, if the wordless murmur and appreciative shift in how Lancelot's kissing Kariya is any indication. 

He trails his attention down Kariya's jaw and neck, mingling in nips to leave a mark, draw up little dots of blood every so often. He goes as far down as he can without having to move back from between Kariya's legs. His hands move from Kariya's chest to stomach, noting every twitch of muscle when he does something Kariya reacts to. He straightens up when he can't move any lower without discomfort, stretching his back. 

Kariya's gaze catches Lancelot in pause, something concentrating enough in his look to make Lancelot wait curiously. Kariya’s not particularly coordinated or certain with what he’s after, but he manages to untuck Lancelot’s shirt nonetheless and push his hands underneath. Lancelot’s skin is softer than he expected, somehow, as Kariya follows the divot of muscle upwards, almost entirely distracted from what’s actually going on. Lancelot looks down at his hands. “Want it off?” he asks.

Kariya freezes for a second, brought back into the reality of needing to process what he does or doesn’t want, but then nods. 

"Alright." The shirt’s fastened with a button behind his neck and a ribbon tied over the small of his back, the rest of it left open to allow his wings to move, and Lancelot undoes both with a quick ease. He can't help but show off a little when he pulls the shirt off -- he knows perfectly well that he’s pretty, and Kariya’s wide-eyed, entranced stare at his chest is compliment enough. He'll let Kariya explore his torso with hand for a while, before impatience gets the best of him. Kariya will have time to touch Lancelot all he likes later, when he's not essentially dangling a meal before Lancelot's nose. So after a few moments, Lancelot takes Kariya's wrists and kisses his index finger, brief before he releases them. He's more careful with his pants than Kariya's, buttons undone and fabric slipped only low enough to pull his dick out. Kariya makes a surprised noise from the back of his throat (oh, shit, this is actually happening, that's--) and replaces his hand over lips. 

Lancelot hums to himself. Kariya's easy to adjust, reposition as Lancelot moves against him. His dick presses against Kariya's entrance and Kariya's given a moment of pause after his eyes closed. "You're alright?" Lancelot asks.

Kariya nods. "Mhrm."

"Sure?"

Another nod. 

"Breathe a little easier, alright? You're not gonna hurt." He can at least be confident with that. Lancelot waits for Kariya to relax, a few more breaths, before he pushes into him. Kariya accepts it easily, with a low moan and his back arching up. Lancelot sighs when their hips meet and he leans down to kiss the hand over Kariya's mouth. "See? Didn't hurt."

Kariya makes a distracted noise of acknowledgment, preoccupied with the fact that he feels like his nerves are buzzing, alive with proximity and the vinous feeling of Lancelot's magic. Lancelot leans over Kariya, sliding a hand under the small of his back to hold him up at a slightly better angle. Kariya’s eyes are squeezed shut and his head tilts away. A mix of nerves and the feeling of getting lost, that he really isn't going to go back to being a respectable church worker if he lets himself sink into this, become unsalvageable and not wanting to be drawn up from the slip into hedonism. “Kariya,” Lancelot mutters. “Move your hand, hm?”

Minutely, Kariya shakes his head. Lancelot, in turn, sighs a little. He leans back and shifts his hips enough to almost draw out of Kariya. The response he gets in an incoherent murmur with an obvious enough tone of complaint to get the message across. Lancelot holds himself still for a moment, then breaks just enough to trail his index finger over Kariya’s jugular. “Kariya. Come on. Watch. Move your hand. Please?”

Kariya cracks his eyes open, just enough to give Lancelot a stubborn glare. It’s oddly endearing, combined with how red his face is and his pupils blown wide enough to nearly eclipse the iris. Lancelot smiles at him. Halfway there. “Your hand?”

If Kariya refuses again, he supposes he’ll let it go, but still. Kariya makes a little ‘hmf’ noise, then finally removes his knuckles from pressing into his lip, instead grabbing the back of the pew-back next to him. Lancelot’s smile grows wider, a flash of teeth and fang poking over his lower lip. “Good,” he chimes.

Kariya attempts to ask if that’s all at the same time as Lancelot abruptly strikes him as  _ far _ too smug. He rocks his hips forward again and Kariya’s question is cut off with a surprised keen. Kariya’s arm twitches as if he wants to muffle himself again, but Lancelot’s quicker to react, moving his tail to wind over Kariya’s forearm and keep it where it is. He’s got his prize, no need to give it up. Kariya’s breath hitches as Lancelot sets up a quick pace, drawing forth intermittent quiet moans and cut-off noises. The vaulted ceilings were built for acoustics, to carry the sound of singing or sermon. There’s none of that here, now, but Lancelot finds the echo nicely suited to his tastes. Kariya's easy to draw noise from even if he isn't loud, constant loneliness (self-imposed and otherwise) is enough to make him cling to whatever's offered, take every brush of Lancelot's skin against his, no matter where, like a blessing, honey-cloying. He doesn't care about where he is anymore, if it's the pew or even if he were in the apse, so long as he can dig his nails into Lancelot's shoulders and sometimes taste his own blood on Lancelot's lips, give Lancelot whatever alms and prayer he wants so long as his skin is still against Kariya's and his movements keep sending sparks up Kariya's spine.

Lancelot pulls Kariya up with him, not much but enough to change something that makes Kariya jolt. “Ah, God--”

He's cut off by a sharp bite to his jaw. “No need for him here.” Outside of this, he can call out to God, a saint, an idol even, whoever. Not Lancelot's problem. But for now: “Just me.”

Kariya obliges, then repeats Lancelot's name in a low murmur because he finds out doing so makes Lancelot move differently and now it's too much, there's too much, but it's heady and bright and Lancelot keeps fucking him even as he cums, his grip on Kariya's hip tight enough to bruise.

There's too much stimulus, all Kariya can do is bury his head against Lancelot's shoulder and cling. Lancelot answers Kariya's whine only with softly murmured nonsense. He liked praise before, so that's what he gets now. It's enough to get him to rock his hips more or less in rhythm with Lancelot. Inelegant, surely, but the sensitivity clings to him like a cloak and Lancelot's sure he can coax another orgasm out, enough magic to keep him sated for a week. He likes the reactive people maybe a little too much, though he can't help but want to claim Kariya and paint him in his own colour.

So he may as well. At least becoming inhuman doesn’t bother him enough to keep him from embracing desire, selfishness. He holds Kariya tight enough to control his position as Lancelot changes his movement. He wants to see how far he can push Kariya, how loud he can make him, stain the walls with the noise of sex and Kariya’s cries. Lancelot grins and refuses to give Kariya a break. The fingernails digging into his shoulderblades aren’t a deterrent, either. 

He takes Kariya for his own. Until, or as, he can press his forehead against Kariya’s and feel him shake breathlessly, a plea in his voice as he repeats Lancelot’s name over and over until it turns into a loud moan and it’s enough to tip Lancelot over the edge, too; the taste of being prayed to. His core tightens and relaxes again, fingers digging tighter into Kariya’s skin. Kariya’s left over-warm, heat in his lower stomach that makes him feel like he’s dreaming, a drunken sort of electricity as magic skitters through him.

Lancelot takes a second to enjoy the empty-headed nothingness before he lifts his head back and checks over what he’s done.

(The mark left of fingernails, bruising, the imprint of teeth. He may have promised not to  _ damn _ Kariya, but he never promised not to claim him.)

Lancelot draws out of him carefully and Kariya mutters at him anyways. He sits back. There's a decided mess left behind, which Lancelot frowns at. He gets the feeling he  _ might _ get a bit chastised about that. (Because of course he'll stick around, he did make a promise. And he is still a little tied to that ring. A little.) Kariya allows Lancelot to move only so much as it doesn't particularly jostle him, otherwise giving an annoyed mutter when he's shifted so Lancelot can sit a little less awkwardly. 

His face is red, hair stuck with sweat to his forehead and the remains of a tear or two on his cheeks. Amused, Lancelot taps Kariya's sternum. “Mn?" He gets a grumble in reply. Fair enough. "Are you worn out already?”

“Ghh,” Kariya groans back in response. He meant for something more along the lines of ‘you went a little too far, jackass’, but that turned out to be far too much work to enunciate.

Lancelot's torn between feeling pity and amusement. He settles for sort-of trying to pull Kariya's clothing back into something approximating how they were before, to no avail whatsoever. Hm. He might have been a little impatient. Lancelot sighs. This could be a tad bit more work to clean up than expected.

At least it’s decidedly fun to make a mess of church employees. He might not have much of an opinion on the stereotypical heaven-hell dichotomy, despite being demonic, but something about this kind of sacrilege makes him smile.

Kariya eyes him, eyes half-open, with something in his expression like he’s suspicious. Lancelot stretches his wings like a protection, obscuring Kariya from the watchful eyes of the saints on the windows. The look doesn’t change, but Lancelot holds it easily, expectant.

After a bit: “You gonna disappear?”

“Should I?”

Kariya doesn’t answer, but he does close his eyes again, seems to relax a little. Lancelot hums a noise of acceptance as he pulls his clothing back on and into place. He’ll give Kariya another minute or two until he’s half-dozing off, before without warning Lancelot leans down and scoops him up, greeted with a strangled noise of surprise from Kariya before he can readjust.

He doesn’t weigh much of anything. Lancelot straightens up and looks about curiously. “What-- are you doing?” Kariya says, still fighting through the surprise.

“You have personal quarters somewhere, don’t you? Unless you  _ want _ to fall asleep on the bench.”

He makes a point, Kariya realizes reluctantly, even though it’s weird to be carried and he’s not sure how he feels about the demon not just  _ vanishing _ after getting what he wanted. That’s how he pictures things going. Lancelot saying he’s going to carry Kariya off makes him want to bristle for no reason, but… he’s also far too tired for that, and none of the bristling is sincere. A knee-jerk reaction.

Kariya sighs and lets his head drop against Lancelot’s. “Yeah. Go out the door on the left side, I’m in the annex next to it. Not locked.  _ Please _ do not make yourself obvious, if anyone sees us, I’m. I don’t know.” He’ll think of some retribution if it comes up, for the moment he has neither the heart nor the motivation. Lancelot’s warm and he wants to sleep.

Lancelot just pats his back. “Nobody else gets to see you, don’t worry.” Not like this, still red about the cheeks and boneless. “Just me.” He’ll let Kariya fall asleep on his shoulder if that’s what he wants as he ambles off to find Kariya’s quarters.

(They’re easy to find, a cramped space with not much there -- wings and all, Lancelot takes up a majority of it, which Kariya discovers when he wakes up the next day with the dual realization of  _ shit, what time is it, _ and  _ what the  _ **_fuck_ ** _ is laying on top of me, _ and an alarmed flailing into a bat wing before he remembers.)

**Author's Note:**

> i might longfic or write other drabbles in this verse bc i like incubus lancelot but who knows.  
> Next in line on my drafts list is.... ryuugilles and hek/mandi
> 
> hit me up on twitter @durindanna if you like


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